


The Teacup Fiasco

by MythicallyInspired



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, ScaredyCat!Thorin, Sneaky!Bilbo, teacups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:32:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5767900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicallyInspired/pseuds/MythicallyInspired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin knows living with Bilbo can be difficult, but he never expected for it to result in the loss of his sanity. And several innocent teacups.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Teacup Fiasco

Living with Bilbo Baggins honestly wasn’t that difficult.

Thorin loved waking up next to his One, having his own chest against Bilbo’s back. He loved the way Bilbo clung to his arms and kept the back of his head on his shoulder. He adored the way Bilbo would grab at him to keep him in bed next to him, refusing to let him leave until they cuddled into late morning. He loved pulling Bilbo out of the fur covered bed and tugging him into the bathroom, and watching him sleepily get ready for the day. He loved having breakfast with him every morning. He loved sending him off to the library to let him work, parting with kisses and getting some in return.

His favorite moments were when Thorin would stumble into the apartment-like quarters, exhausted and grouchy. Bilbo would be waiting for him, scolding him for trailing in random pebbles and scraps of paper. Bilbo would hastily pull off Thorin’s cloak and crown before ushering him into the bathroom, letting him bathe while he ran off to the kitchens to get Thorin some supper. After being clean, Thorin would munch on whatever Bilbo fetched him while he braided his hair, letting Thorin bitch and whine about what his council complained about or what diplomatic problems he had to deal with. After, Bilbo would drag Thorin into bed, cuddling with him until they fell asleep, or collapsed into each other’s embrace, giving into other carnal desires.

However, there were days in which living with Bilbo Baggins was difficult.

The only problem with living with Bilbo was the fact that he was a hobbit. No, it had nothing to do with what he was, or how he looked, or how he acted, or how he reacted to cultural situations, and it definitely had nothing to do with how Bilbo presented himself in front of the kingdom of Erebor. In fact, Bilbo carried himself with utmost grace and elegance, acting like a proper consort and more, especially when it came with interacting with the subjects of Erebor.

It was the little traits that came with being a hobbit.

Like being light-footed and naturally stealthy.

 _Especially_ being light-footed and naturally stealthy.

~~~

Thorin hummed tiredly as he poured the steaming, hot water into the intricately painted glass teacup. When it was filled sufficiently, the dwarf placed down the kettle carefully back over the now dimming fireplace. He sighed and took a bag of chamomile, placing it in the hot water.

He watched as the water began to turn to a crisp, clear, maple color, getting darker as the seconds ticked by. Thorin eventually pulled out the small canister of sugar and the jar of honey from a nearby table top. Taking a spoon, Thorin gently stirred the liquid before he took the bag out, placing it in a bin. He was careful to add in a single teaspoon of sugar before drizzling some honey into the cup.

The warm smell of honey-sugar chamomile was enough to relax the dwarf’s still exhausted shoulders. Thorin smiled to himself as he lifted the cup to his lips, taking in a deep breath before he slowly took the first sips from the cup.

“Good morning, my king,” a breathy whisper sounded in his ear, accompanied by the feeling of hands running up his back and to his broad shoulders.

Thorin yelped, his body immediately stiffening and jolting. His fingers immediately let the glass slip from his hands, his blue eyes just following as it shattered on the marble flooring, hot tea splattering on the floor.

Silence hung heavily in the room before the king and consort slowly looked at each other and back at the floor, then lingered before a small choking sound came from Bilbo.

“Oh, sweet Yavanna, Thorin, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you or anything!” Bilbo cried out, immediately kneeling to grab at the pieces of shattered tea cup.

Thorin blinked before he hastily grabbed his consort’s hands, tugging him up back onto his feet. “Bilbo, it’s fine. I just didn’t hear you, that’s all,” he murmured, grabbing a cloth from the countertop and using it to clean up the spilt tea.

He then stood back up once it was cleared, kissing at Bilbo’s nose. “I’m sorry about your teacup,” he murmured.

Bilbo blinked up at the dwarf before letting out an amused chuckle. “I have plenty more teacups. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself. I promise not to sneak up on you.”

~~~

Except that wasn’t the last time. It was the first of many.

The second time was an accident.

The third time was slightly intentional.

The sixth and tenth times were completely on purpose.

Each and every time Bilbo would sneak up on Thorin, it would always result in the same, intense reaction. Thorin would always scream, jump, and drop whatever he was holding. Most of the time, it was one of Bilbo’s teacups. Other times it happened Thorin would be holding the sugar or cream, ending up with a sticky mess to mop up from the counters and floor.

Bilbo, on the cost of Thorin’s pride and rapidly beating heart, would always find it amusing, no matter what. Seeing such an intense and unexpected reaction come from the king of Erebor, the same dwarf that had killed Azog the Defiler twice, the same man who had jumped in front of Smaug, the same one who had swept Bilbo off of his feet (quite literally and figuratively) with such confidence and bravery.

Quite frankly, it was _hilarious._

What made it even more fun was that Thorin had gotten increasingly frustrated over the course of the several weeks that Bilbo continued to do this. Thorin had finally caught onto what Bilbo was doing, and he was not happy about it. It had gotten to the point where Thorin would constantly look over his shoulder in the mornings, wanting to catch Bilbo in the act and stop him before he had the ability to strike.

What was even better was that Thorin had _made his own set of teacups_ , ones made of metal. They were ones that he had forged himself in the privacy of his own time. He had made them out of simple iron, the only thing adorning them was a simple pattern of sapphires and white jewels.

Of course, Bilbo found this absolutely hysterical, and he couldn’t help but break into laughter each and every time Thorin used the cups, and poured tea from the iron kettle. Thorin would just glare at him and tell him to be quiet, but he could see the slight embarrassment in those blue eyes. At those moments, Bilbo almost pitied him, and was almost tempted to stop his little stealthy escapades.

But today was not that day.

~~~

Thorin stirred the tea in his cup slowly, his calloused fingertips brushing against the rim of the iron cup. His tired blue eyes rested, unfocused, on the copper colored tea. He sighed heavily as he added some honey, then he placed the containers on the counter before he closed them up, sealing them. Thorin glanced over his shoulder, steadying his breathing so that it was quiet all around him.

The only sounds that could be heard in the apartment were the quiet crackles of a dying fire and the clanking of metal onto marble as Thorin set down his spoon.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Thorin leaned against the counter, sipping his tea. Moving his hair from his eyes, he walked forward to the fireplace, leaning on the mantle.

He closed his eyes as the sweet, calming concoction flowing down his throat.

“You seem very relaxed.”

Thorin yelped and he jolted, jumping out of his skin before he lurched forward, the metal slipping from his hands. Blue and hazel eyes widened as they watched the teacup fall. It didn’t bounce against the marble like it usually did, oh no, but smashed against the flooring. Shards of iron flew and skidded across the floor, sending darkly colored liquid onto the floor.

Bilbo gaped as he stared at the smashed piece, a cold shudder running down his spine as he slowly moved his gaze up to Thorin, waiting, anticipating his reaction.

Thorin stared down at the shattered dish before he slowly looked up towards the ceiling of their apartment before he looked over at Bilbo, narrowing his eyes. He took in a deep breath before he growled lowly and glared down at the teacup.

“Are you joking with me, right now? What the hell is this? Why? _Why has Mahal forsaken me?_ Why will he not let me have a simple cup of tea in the morning before I attend to the court?” Thorin whined aloud before he placed the bottom of his palm against his eye, breathing out slowly. He then groaned and clenched his fists tightly, the nails digging into his palms. “Fuck!”

Bilbo stared at the dwarf before he pursed his lips, immediately looking down at the ground.

“This has to be the twelfth teacup, for Mahal’s sake! And it isn’t even made of _glass._ I made these teacups myself! I crafted them with my own hands, a blessing Mahal gave to us when he created us. And now he won’t even let me use them in the comfort of my own halls!”

Bilbo cleared his throat and glanced away, putting his hand against his mouth. “It’s the fourteenth one, love.”

“ _Fourteen?_ Oh, Mahal,” Thorin groaned, hissing out in irritation as he moved his glare back down to the smashed metal teacup. “This is absolutely ridiculous!”

Bilbo couldn’t help it. A sputtered laugh fell from the hobbit’s lips before it was blown out into full laughter. He leaned over the armrest of a nearby chair before laughing even harder, his head down as his shoulders shook. The entire situation was just too much for Bilbo to handle. Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, was losing his mind over the loss of a teacup. It was too absurd, and too difficult not to laugh at.

Thorin whipped his glare over to Bilbo, furrowing his thick eyebrows. “Are you laughing at me?”

Bilbo could only nod, tears beginning to fill his eyes as he continued to laugh harder, his stomach beginning to hurt.

“Bilbo, you don’t _understand._ Do you have any idea how _irritating_ this is?” Thorin asked, and it was clear on his face, but that only made Bilbo laugh louder, tears beginning to trail down his cheeks.

Thorin huffed and he crossed his arms, his lip out in a slight pout as he continued to watch his consort laugh at him, clearly taking enjoyment in his suffering.

“I-I’m so, so sorry, Thorin. It’s just,” Bilbo giggled out, wiping at his cheeks with his sleeve. “You’re so wound up about this! It’s just a teacup!”

Thorin threw up his hands in exasperation before he growled out and began to stomp back towards the bedroom. “Damn it all, then. I’m not leaving the bedroom until you do for now on. This is ridiculous.”

**Author's Note:**

> No actual teacups were harmed in the writing of this ficlet.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
